


Silk Shorts

by Iblametumblrformyproblems



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Roommates, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28210794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iblametumblrformyproblems/pseuds/Iblametumblrformyproblems
Summary: The reader just needs a roommate to help pay her expensive rent each month. What could anyone do when the incredibly handsome Tom Hiddleston walks through your door and volunteers to be that roommate?
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s), Tom Hiddleston/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	Silk Shorts

For most people your age, it wasn’t uncommon to be still renting some flat and scrounging up the money for rent each month. Perhaps that was why so many people resorted to putting advertisements for a roommate in the paper.

And against your better judgement, you found yourself posting one such ad. After some long conversations with the landlord about being able to use his background checking service, you were slowly narrowing the field of applicants. Of course there was never really a way to know if a person was a good roommate or not until you’d had them in that capacity, but at least you were weeding out perverts and creeps. At least you hoped so.

At first you were dead set against having a man in your apartment, especially a stranger, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers. So what if you stocked up a little on pepper spray and refreshed your knowledge of self protection once you realized there were no female applicants in your pile? Better to be prepared, you told yourself.

Today you had decided to let three of the final applicants come see the place to see if they were still interested. Fortunately, your brother, Zeke, decided to tag along for the day, just in case any of them got the wrong idea. If nothing else, his attempt at making himself look massive and terrifying brought you a few good chuckles.

The first one was a twenty four year old man who looked every part the student he claimed to be. He even brought along his college transcripts, appearing all the more eager to get off campus finally in his final year of schooling. The first round of shocked surprise came and went with flustered mumbling and awkward pauses. But altogether, Johnathan Wheeler passed the smell test.

The next applicant was a Robert Redington, a man in his thirties that definitely gave off struggling musician that worked as a barista to make ends meet vibes. He seemed significantly less shocked by your gender, but you did not miss the attempt at flirting to win you over. While it wasn’t too overt, you knew life as someone struggling to find their true passion often results in missed rent payments. And you couldn’t afford to pay it on your own.

Finally, as afternoon turned into evening and you had to resort to tea for your sore throat, the final applicant knocked on your door. Zeke offered to get the door for you while you took a soothing sip of your tea.

“Hello!” Greeted a warm voice, muffled by the doorway. “This is apartment 209, correct? I believe I was supposed to be having a meeting regarding a flatmate at 7?”

“Yeah, you’re in the right place,” Zeke answered, opening the door wider to allow the man in. “Come on in, she’s waiting for you inside.”

Your first glimpse of Tom Hiddleston was one that almost took your breath away. He was tall. Like very tall. And he seemed all legs until you managed to find broad shoulders and a set of strong arms. His face was contoured by the gods, and holy hell, those blue eyes shown from behind a pair of stylish glasses. Clad in a simple blue button down and black slacks, he still managed a presence that was awe inspiring.

“You must be Mr. Hiddleston,” you greeted, standing from your comfy couch to extend your hand. 

Those blue eyes never seemed to hesitate, even as he acknowledged that you were indeed, a woman. There wasn’t even a guilty glimpse at your body and you sincerely respected that in a man.

His large, elegant hand encompassed yours for a brief moment as you shook his in greeting. “It is a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N). Though I must insist you call me Tom. My father is Mr. Hiddleston.”

“Tom then,” you obliged with a smile. “How about we do the tour and then we will talk specifics.”

  
  
  
  


Tom was moved in by the end of the month, complete with his rent payment so you wouldn’t have to struggle to make ends meet for another month. The two bedroom apartment became infinitely smaller with such an attractive man to share a bathroom, living space, and kitchen with. But it seemed that the two of you were adjusting well.

Of course there were normal annoying things to adapt to, like Tom’s incessant need to play guitar late in the evening, practicing for god knows what. Or his takeover of the kitchen whenever he found himself in a creative mood. Or the time he forgot to clean up the shaved hairs around the sink.

But that was all normal roommate stuff. There are no single two people who won’t grate on each other after a while.

But you found the attraction much harder to deal with.

You took your shower after his, as Tom always left enough hot water for you to get clean. And having to walk past the man daily, with his bare, muscled chest mere inches away from you, left you hot and bothered more often than not. His deep voice singing soft ballads in the night had you imagining all sorts of inappropriate scenarios. His hands as he cooked and baked for hours, working with precision and elegance, had you wanting so much more. 

Needless to say, your vibrator was getting a work out. Each night, you had to attempt to quiet your moans, praying to God that the hum of the vibrator wouldn’t travel through the thin walls. Or the soft moans of Tom’s name that just barely whispered out of your lips. And you dearly hoped he couldn’t read your mind with the obscene fantasies running through your brain.

  
  


Your body constantly felt on edge, so sensitive and needy that the most basic brush of fabric could have you flushed and needy. Maybe that’s why you chose to break out the silky pajama shorts that sat unused in your drawers for months. They soothed you bare skin like a balm, but still left you feeling comfortable. They certainly weren’t your comfort sweats and leggings, but the change of pace felt fantastic.

After a few days of wearing them each night, you finally braved wearing them out of your room. Even

If it was just a quick trip for a bottle of water, it felt infinitely more brave. Because Tom was in the living room.

He had some sort of Shakespearean movie on, sitting comfortably on the comfy gray couch you’d brought to the apartment. The look was complete with gray sweatpants and a blue tee, all of which still looked delicious on his lean body. You desperately tried to keep your eyes from the crotch area of his sweatpants, knowing there would be a just barely visible bulge there. It was hardly fair that he teased you like this.

Nodding at his inquiring eyes as you passed the couch, you tried to focus on the task at hand. Water. Just some water to help you breathe with him around. It didn’t matter that you were wearing your silk shorts. He probably wouldn’t even notice.

Turning around with an ice cold glass of water in your hands, your thoughts were completely derailed by the way Tom’s eyes seemed to flinch back towards the television suddenly. He cleared his throat, trying to look nonchalant, but there was an odd flush to his cheeks now.

Apparently he noticed. 

You couldn’t help the little wiggle you added to your walk as you returned to your room, feeling the heat of his gaze. Oh, these shorts were definitely becoming a staple in your sleepwear.

  
  
  
  


For the next few weeks, you bought enough silk shorts so that you wouldn’t run out in between wash days. If he was going to turn you on all the time, you had every right to torture him back. The feeling of power was heady. He could barely handle being around you, rushing off into his own space with a mumbled excuse. And gods, you just wanted to drive him crazy until he fucked you the way your body was begging for.

Tom was hilarious to tease. He wouldn’t let you know he was looking at your ass, but he was one of the most obvious men you’ve ever seen. Ever the gentleman, he never intruded on your space or made assumptions. He liked to put as much room as he possibly could on the small couch. It was almost virginal the way he shied away from you.

It made you wonder. What if the raw, sexy beast of a man that was your roommate never did the deed? Would he be open to you showing him the ropes, taking on a nice teaching roll? Or maybe he just wasn’t interested and was trying to be polite to your subtle advances. 

The most likely option was that he just wasn’t interested. Yeah, he was obviously a gentleman in every way, but most men would have tried SOMETHING by now… right?

A part of you considered just giving up. What was the point in playing this game if you were just designated to the friend zone? Maybe it had just been too long since you’d gotten laid. Living with the gender you are attracted to can be hard in general, so maybe you just needed to work out some sexual tension. Tom certainly didn’t deserve to be the brunt of your libido.

Tinder was always a great option for hook ups, it was just about finding someone who actually knew what they were doing. You weren’t really interested in a sucky encounter that would only leave you more frustrated. But hey, you had to give people some chances to succeed where others have failed.

  
  
  
  


A few days after setting up your account and swiping incessantly, you managed to find someone who wasn’t going to send you a dick pic instead of starting a normal conversation. A charming face and an ability to keep you interested was always worth a date in your book.

The night of the date, Tom happened to be home, getting ready to start making whatever he wanted to try out this time in the kitchen. You left your room in a short, black dress and strappy silver heels that made your legs look infinitely longer than they were. A simple up do and a glowy makeup look completed the ensemble for a sexy, demure woman. 

To your surprise, Tom stopped his preparation the second he caught sight of you stepping out of your room, which happened to be in direct line of sight from the kitchen. The whisk he held in his hand clattered to the ground with a loud bang, just enough to break him out of his trance.

“Going out tonight?” He asked, clearing his voice a little, struggling to find the lost whisk.

“Yeah,” you said, brushing your hair behind your ear in a nervous gesture. “My date should be here any second.”

Tom finally found the whisk from some corner and he leapt up with a cute grace. “Oh, I didn’t know you were seeing someone. When did that happen?” 

His tone seemed perfectly conversational, which somehow sent a pang of disappointment in your chest that you didn’t want to examine closer.

“I mean, it’s the first date, so I guess it’s pretty new,” you explained, playing with your little clutch.

“Well then, I wish you the best,” Tom answered, giving his full attention to the strange concoction on the stove, probably some delicious dinner you were going to miss out on.

A perfectly timed ding from your phone broke through the awkwardness and allowed you an escape. You could only pray this new guy was going to be a sufficient distraction.

  
  
  
  


“Ugh!” You screamed as you stormed back into your apartment a few hours later. The door frame shook from the force you used to slam the door behind you.

Kicking your heels off with just as much carelessness, baring noting the dent one left in your wall. It was all fucking par for course. How dare you have one good night for yourself.

The door to Tom’s room opened hesitantly, before showing the deeply concerned face of your roommate. But before he could say anything, you interrupted him.

“I need to cool down before I talk about this, so give me an hour,” you growled out, equally annoyed that he could manage to stand there in just grey sweat pants and blue tee and somehow look perfect.

He nodded in agreement, but that was the last thing you saw of him as you gathered your showering items before storming into the bathroom, probably a bit more dramatic than necessary.

When Johnathan Rilke picked you up outside of your apartment in a well kept vehicle and a suit, you thought for sure the date was going to go well. He’d chosen an incredible restaurant to get dinner at, an elegant fine dining experience that would really allow the two of you to get to know each other.

And that’s where things went downhill. The ego of this man made the food go sour in your mouth. He exuded a disgusting smugness and it didn’t sit well with you. But still you made an attempt to enjoy the date.

Then he had the gall to demand that you would go home with him tonight, to “put on a show so he got his money’s worth” in his words, or he wouldn’t be paying for the dinner. Fortunately, you had enough to cover the meal, complete with a splashed glass of red wine in his face, and the Uber ride home.

Not only were you not getting a sexual outlet, you were down 200, and that was just for the appetizers and drinks. That dude was such a complete prick. You scrubbed every single inch of skin he had managed to touch, even your hand where he had shook it. There was no way you wanted any slimy remnant of him.

True to your word, after an hour of letting your anger burn brightly, it decreased to a simmering level. Which was just enough to be able to let Tom know you were safe and nothing had been hurt but your pride and your wallet. 

Tom sat on the couch, waiting patiently as you exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam. The concern didn’t seem any lessened, the lines around his face drawn deeply. Your anger lessened even more when you took in how much he cared for your well being. 

“I’m fine, Tom,” you assured, running a brush through your wet hair. “Just took a sharp hit to my pride. Though I might need some extra help with rent this month, but I promise to pay you back.”

Tom waved his hand, expressing that it was a nonissue. “I’m not worried about that, I can cover it. But will you tell me what happened?”

You plopped down beside him, almost wishing you’d saved the glass of wine so you could do this more drunk. “He was a prick. An egotistical asshole who assumed he had any rights to my body or my time. And I had to disavow him of the notion.”

“As much as I do enjoy reading, I’m not sure even I can read between those lines,” Tom teased, gently pressing for more of the story.

You stood up, avoiding his gaze. “Do you want a glass of wine? I think I still have a decent white in the cupboard somewhere.”

“You don’t have to talk to me darling, but you should talk to someone,” Tom answered, cutting through all your bullshit.

You walked to the kitchen, standing in front of your cupboard with the wine glasses. Chewing on your lip distractedly, you made an attempt to look preoccupied. It wasn’t that you wanted to ignore him, it was just that you were worried that if you opened up how tonight truly made you feel, other things would come out. Things you didn’t want Tom to know at this time.

“Hey,” Tom said, somehow behind you all of the sudden. You appreciate that he announced himself before touching your shoulder so you would turn towards him. “If he did something to you, I would like to know. I can take you to the police tonight and we can make sure this fucker doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

Hearing that elegant accent release that crass of a swear word had a visceral reaction to your body. Had you not been so turned on, you probably would have laughed in surprise, but your body was definitely telegraphing just how much that affected you. And he was much too close to not notice it.

You cleared your throat with a nervous chuckle, not able to keep his gaze for long. “No, nothing like that happened. He just tried to coerce me into sex. I answered with a glass of wine down his expensive suit. At most, he was just a bad person who tries to make people have sex with him by making money an issue.”

Tom couldn’t hide his reactions to your words either, though his was much more anger and disgust than yours. The fury that anyone would behave so horribly burned like a wildfire in those stormy blue eyes. You could almost see him storming out of the apartment to defend your honor in a fit of rage. 

“May I touch you?” He asked softly, burying the anger under the need to comfort you. His arms were open, telegraphing his desire to give you a hug. You had to blink away a few tears that he would be so incredibly considerate.

You nodded, burying your face into his strong chest as his arms wrapped around you to pull you close. Having him so close meant you got to breathe in the subtle scent of his cologne without it seeming too weird. Even the smell of this enigma of a man seemed to turn you on, as a fresh heat burned through your stomach, twisting and turning like a dragon had hatched in your loins.

Somehow, you hadn’t even noticed you were wearing your new favorite pajamas, the silk pressing against your skin sensually, a stark reminder as you basked in the feeling of Tom’s body against your own. He felt lean and muscled, a subtle kind of strength, but refined and strong. And holy fuck did you want him.

His large hands seemed to touch the whole of your back, running over your barely covered skin in what should have been a platonic way, but you really wanted to feel what those hands felt like grabbing at you, bringing you closer and making you lose your mind.

The tension in the room seemed to build and build towards some end, whether it would be good or bad. You dared to look up at him, seeing his strong jaw and elegant face from a much closer perspective. It took more self control than you thought yourself capable of not to kiss a line up that long neck, leaving bite marks on his jaw until you met his lips in a feverish heat. And that self control was waning by the second.

With a clearing of your throat and a step to the side, Tom’s arms dropped from around you as you escaped before you did something stupid. You smiled in thanks, hoping to the gods your hard nipples weren’t visible through the thin cloth. 

“And I just remembered I wanted some wine,” you joked, trying to break the tension. It didn’t help when you watched his eyes seem to eat you alive. What was once anger in his face seemed to have morphed into something much different. And you felt like you were going to combust. “You grab the glasses and I’ll grab the wine?”

Leaning over to the bottom cupboard, where you kept your wine rack, you knew you were putting your ass in the most visually appealing form. If someone was going to do something about this tension, it wasn’t going to be started by you. Maybe you could push him over the edge of that thinly held control. So you gave him a little wiggle just in case he was watching. 

Before you could manage to set your choice for the night on the counter, two impossibly large hands pulled you back into Tom’s warm body, one at your hip and the other in your hair. Those dexterous fingers threaded through your locks and tugged gently until you were practically leaning against him. Something deep within you crowed in victory: you’d finally won.

Brushing your hair to one side, Tom nuzzled the space where your neck met your jaw, letting you enjoy the feeling of his strong body pressing against you in all the right ways. You let a little moan escape as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot.

“You have one chance, darling,” he purred, the very sound of his voice growling in your ear enough to send shivers down your spine. “If you don’t want this and I’ve read everything very wrong, tell me now and I will never overstep again”.

You tried to answer by pressing yourself more fully against him, now feeling the shape of his erection against your ass as you tried to get ever closer. The large hand around your hip tightened, as Tom attempted to reign himself in.

“You’ve had a traumatic night. I need your verbal consent before I give you what you’ve been begging for,” Tom growled, a dominant tone taking over, deepening his growl even more until you were whimpering.

Your thighs were pressed tightly together in an attempt to relieve the mounting pressure. This was everything you wanted and more. The perfect gentleman becoming absolutely wild with desire, all for you. “Please, Tom.”

Your captor wasn’t satisfied with you plea, nipping along your jawline in a sharp stinging manner that was quickly soothed with the gentle caress of his tongue. “Tell me exactly what you want, or I walk away.”

“Fuck,” you whined, your hormones fighting at full blast, screaming at you to get into position so he could mount you like the beast he was. “I need you to fuck me, Tom. I need you to take me with that hard cock I can feel. I need to not be able to walk tomorrow because you fucked me so thoroughly.”

Tom growled lowly, trying to relieve his own pressure with a hip thrust against your willing body. The hand on your hip shifted a bit, palming your mound with his hand and feeling the wetness that threatened to drench those silk shorts. You caught the slight shakiness in his exhale as he realized just how ready you were for him.

“You paint a pretty picture, darling,” Tom teased as his hand increased pressure directly over your clit. His other hands tugged just a bit harder on your hair, until you moaned in explicit pleasure. “Is this what you wanted when you first wore these silly excuses for nightwear? Did you want to see me snap, until I gave you the thorough fucking whores like you want?”

It should have been offensive. It should have been a turn off. But hearing him swear and call you names was pure ecstasy. And he totally caught on to how your body was responding to his minor degradation. His stupid British accent made the moment all the more intense.

“What a good little slut you are,” he purred, his fingers now finding their way under the band of your shorts and finding the complete lack of underwear covering your pussy from his searching fingers. “Fuck.”

In a sudden movement, Tom picked you up like you were nothing but a rag doll and bent you over the kitchen counter. The cold of the countertop invaded your thin top, making your nipples rub sensually against the marble. He adjusted your hips with a simple pull until your barely covered center was in perfect position for his viewing. 

Long fingers pulled the satin fabric away from your pussy, having to break the suction your wetness had created. “Ah, look at that. All primed and ready for me. I bet you’ve been so frustrated, needing me to take care of you like the good little girl you want to be.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, so close to cumming, and he’d barely done anything yet. “Please, Tom. I need… please.”

“I know, darling,” Tom purred, his fingers collecting the wetness around your entrance in a teasing manner. In a quick movement that had you squealing in a way that should have been unattractive, he buried his longer fingers in your core. Setting an impossible speed, he sought for the spot that would have you moaning every time he hit it. You were so close, much faster than you were used to. Those fingers were good for more than plucking the strings on his guitar.

You arched your back further into his hand, seeking that amazing height. His free hand grabbed at your ass greedily while the other one twisted once, twice, and you found yourself falling over the edge with a loud, gasping moan.

Tom eased his fingers out of you slowly as you came down, making you whine at the new emptiness he left behind. He played with the hem of the shorts, seeing how far they might move. “These ridiculous scraps of silk have tortured me for much too long,” He growled, pulling harder to bear your pussy all the more.

The hard pull on the fabric managed to put a perfect amount of pressure on your clit, electricity coursing through your body once more with a gasp. There was a small chuckle from behind you as Tom realized just how sensitive you were.

“I think the best possible way to purge the torment of these infernal shorts is to fuck your sopping pussy with them still on,” he growled, pulling the fabric against your clit again just to watch how you jumped and gasped. “I want to see you wearing these again and remember this exact moment, a pleading mess, begging for my cock to fill you and completely at my mercy.”

A hard shaft bounced against your pussy, a silken head so close to where you needed him. You whined softly and made an attempt to push yourself on him, the hard cock only pulled away as you failed. 

“Oh, but I like this,” he purred, running his hands over your silken ass possessively. “But I may be willing to change my mind, if you beg for it.”

If you’d been anywhere near your right mind, you’d have put him in his place for the absurdity of his demands, but your brain was much too far gone. Something about Tom had your sensibilities checking out for the night, leaving you with a primal need to be owned, possessed, and desired.

A soft groan of frustration escaped as Tom remained out of reach. “Please, Tom. Please fuck me with your cock and fill up me up. I’m such a cockslut, but only for you. I wanted you to mount me from the minute I first saw you. Shit, please, I can’t take it anymore!”

The hard cock returned once more to your entrance before sliding deep inside in one graceful movement. Tom moaned right along with you as he felt your walls constrict tightly around his erection. You, on the other hand, could barely breathe with the overwhelming feeling of fullness that came with him inside of you. Those grey sweatpants apparently hid much more than you ever guessed.

Tom grabbed one of your legs and bent it at the knee until he could place it on the countertop as well. You were well and spread out of him now, thankful for all the stretching you’d been doing lately. The position allowed for him to get even deeper, pressing his full length into you slowly. You moaned and gasped at the feeling of being stretched beyond capacity.

“That’s it, little slut. You take me so well,” he breathed, the perfect control wavering just a little as he couldn't contain his groan when he was fully seated. “I will let you adjust for a second before continuing. But you are doing so, so good.”

If Tom couldn’t tell you had a voice/degradation/praise kink, he certainly could feel it now as your core clenched around him and fresh wetness drenched him, leaving him in full understanding of the power he held just in his words. He grunted lowly, twisting his hips slowly in a rolling motion to get your body adapted faster. Combined with the added pressure against your clit, the movement had you seeing stars.

“Ready, darling?” He asked, just as breathless as you were sure to sound like if you answered. You simply nodded, not trusting your voice to manage non embarrassing words.

Tom immediately started fucking you with an intensity that brought you so close so quickly. The feeling of his cock sliding between your folds, pressed deep inside, hitting every spot with each thrust, was heavenly. His hands gripped your hips tight enough to leave finger shaped bruises, but holy hell you wanted the proof that they offered. He used his other hand to grab a handful of your hair, pulling your torso off the countertop and arching your back into his thrusts.

You were starting to sound insane to your higher brain, as each thrust had a gasping moan leaving your lips. The pressure of your hair being pulled, feeling speared so deeply, and the openness of your mouth just begging to be filled by yet another cock made for a magnificent picture. And you couldn’t bring yourself to be ashamed.

Tom felt your walls starting to flutter, ready to shatter around him in amazing ways. “Oh fuck, darling,” he groaned, his thrust getting sloppy as he relished the feeling of your body about to cum around him. “That’s it. Cum with me, my good girl.”

With two loud moans joined in unison, leaving most of your neighbors completely aware of what was happening in room 126, the two of you came with the force of all the pent up frustration. Hell, if this was how good it felt to finally fuck after teasing for months, you would tease every man you slept with until they snapped.

Tom’s warm cum flooded your insides as your release was dripping on the kitchen floor. But neither of you seemed to care at that moment. Breathing was the first priority and then laughing at how amazing you both felt. Then cleaning up the mess.

Tom’s brilliant, blue eyes sparkled at you with a fresh vulnerability. “We should have done that a long time ago.”

“Naw,” you answered. “The timing was perfect. Who knew how powerful silk shorts were?”

  
  



End file.
